Sex and Candy
by songbardbird
Summary: Post-Movie. Cobb, Arthur, Eames, Yusuf and Saito are all kidnapped by Fischer, who is intent on a violent revenge. Ariadne is the only one who can save them by...stripping? A/A eventually, Chapter two is finally up!
1. Prologue

Post-Movie. Cobb, Arthur, Eames, Yusuf and Saito are all kidnapped by Fischer, who is intent on a violent revenge. Ariadne is the only one who can save them by...stripping? A/A, rated T for violence and sexuality

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception but I wish I could own JGL, mmmm!

Prologue:

Saito had been at a party. (He had only gone out for a minute to catch a fresh breath of air—his tux had become too constricting, he made a mental note to call his tailor in the morning)

Cobb had been sitting on a park bench. (A rare, quiet moment to himself, the kids with their grandparents baking Christmas cookies. He was thinking of Mal's eyes)

Arthur had been researching their next mark. (Page after page of pictures and words flashed on his computer screen. He was restless, spacing, wondering what to get Ariadne for Christmas. He barely noticed the sound of the cocked gun against his head)

Eames had been researching his next mark. (She was lovely, a redhead, and completely wrapped around his pinkie finger, taken in by his effortless charm and accented tongue. When he saw the great brute of a man come barreling toward him, at first he thought it was her husband)

Yusuf had been researching the limit of his blood alcohol level (He hadn't gotten very far. When those two large sausage fingers tapped him on the shoulder, he protested, thinking it was the bouncer cutting him off. I just got here, he complained, before the burlap sack was shoved over his head.

Five men, in different places, taken to the same place. Handled by the same men, bound in the same way. None of them knew the others were there, only felt the rough rope around their hands as they strained for their totem, not sure if this was reality or a dream. Feeling the slick needle slide into their arm, the familiar heaviness of unconsciousness. Blinded in the dream by the bag around their neck, silenced by a dirty piece of duct tape, feet and hands bound by rope to a chair. Each man struggled against his chains, thinking of the other men, hoping they hadn't been taken as well.

And then, light, too bright at first. Cobb was the first to see the others and swore to himself. Eames rolled his eyes and Arthur looked around furiously. Saito was deathly calm and Yusuf was by far, the most upset. All five men stared at each other, lined up in a row, trying to move, to speak, thinking of escape plans in their heads, wondering who had brought them here. The room was empty and white, a large ballroom or maybe a reception hall. Clearly they were dreaming so the threat of death or physical harm was empty, but still, why? What were they doing there?

After a few seconds of muffled struggle, their captor stepped out into the light.

"Gentlemen," Fischer said. "You have been brought here to make amends."


	2. Chapter One

Thanks for the reviews so far! It's been a looooong time since I've written fan fiction but Inception is so BAMF and I lurve A/A to the max. This chapter is a lot longer, so hurrah! And stay tuned for chapter two, where Ariadne gets a little bit saucy in her attempts to save the boys. ;) R/R pleeease! Thanks a bundle…Also this fic hasn't been betaed so there are no doubt spelling/grammatical errors. Sorry! I'll try to proof read further and fix them.

Chapter One:

Arthur knew this day would come. They had been lucky, so far. Completing the jobs, separating themselves from the mark, wiping the slate clean. But it was only a matter of time before a former mark would find out and come after them. He was not surprised that it turned out to be Fischer.

A handful of guards slowly entered the room, standing on either side of the row of chairs. Fischer stood in the center, his eyes watery and triumphant, his mouth curved in a trembling smirk. A massive man stood beside him, the one who had abducted them, his face impassive, waiting for orders. An exceedingly smaller man stood on the other side of Fischer but his eyes were sharp and intelligent, he was breathing quickly and shallowly, tapping his foot impatiently, and staring directly at Cobb. The glint of silver suitcases shone out behind him.

"You have been brought here to make amends," Fischer repeated, licking his lips slightly. "Each of you entered my mind at one time and planted an idea. An idea that spread, like a parasite, and caused me, I believe, to dissolve my father's empire." He paused, shifted his weight and looked in Saito's direction, but not in his eyes. "You requested the idea be planted," he stated, then turned his gaze to Arthur, then Yusuf, then Eames, spitting and speaking daggers but never making eye contact. "You researched, you drugged me, you convinced me, and you-" He paused again, his steely gaze taking in Cobb's fierce expression, his rigid jaw line, the muscles in his neck, and finally—his dark, hard eyes. "You planted the idea."

Fischer closed his eyes briefly, letting silence fill the room. The young man next to him continued to stare at Cobb eagerly. "You are lucky you didn't ruin my life because my punishment would be far greater," Fischer continued, opening his eyes. "Do not ask me how I found out; I have my ways. Certain things were…off…after that plane ride and I took some lengths to investigate." The young man next to Fischer smiled. "Everyone was so surprised there had been a reconciliation between my father and I, so shocked by his final request. I could not make them understand the sweetness of resolution, but after awhile, I couldn't make myself understand it either." Fischer laughed bitterly and roughly wiped his check with the back of his hand. "You cannot begin to understand the disappointment when the wool was pulled from my eyes."

There was a tense pause, a breath of reconsideration, Fischer's eyes turned upwards. But then he closed his eyes again and nodded. This signal caused two things to happen at once. The sharp-eyed man all but ran to the silver suitcases and began opening them. There were five. While this was occurring, Fischer's guard stepped away from him and strode toward the row of chairs. Two other guards from each side also approached the chairs and raised their fists. As the man opened each suitcase, Saito, Arthur, Yusuf, Eames and Cobb were all hit in the face, full force. Yusuf's nose was broken immediately and the duct tape across his mouth did nothing to stifle his scream. Both Eames and Saito's lips were split across their teeth, blood running down their cheeks and into their throats. Arthur's cheek was cut deeply by the guard's ring and Cobb, at the silent nod from Fischer, was struck again, this time on his left eye. Other than Yusuf, none of the men made more noise than a grunt.

"Unlike you, I have decided to be courteous and explain exactly what is going to happen," Fischer spoke, his voice louder. He began to pace slowly in front of the row of chairs, taking in the blood dripping into small puddles on the ground, the fresh bruises already beginning to form. "I simply wish to do the same thing to all of you, as you so kindly did to me." He nodded again towards the young man who was sterilizing needles and connecting tubes. "My extractor here cannot boast the ability to perform…_inception_," he hissed out the word, his eyes narrowing. "But he can certainly extract, better than any of you can imagine." At this, the young extractor could barely contain his gleeful smile. Tapping the edge of the suitcase, he looked up to Fischer and simply said, "It's ready." Fischer nodded, the extractor flicked one of the needles, and the guards advanced again on the bound men. Three of them could feel their ribs crack, one blow to the head sent Yusuf unconscious, and all five men made considerably more noise.

Silence, again. Cobb breathed heavily through his mouth, his head bowed, his body shaking. Saito groaned in pain, Arthur's eyes were closed, and Eames choked a little on the blood and spit that he swallowed helplessly.

"All of you know you are in a dream, so you are probably wondering why I am going through the trouble of…roughing you up, so to speak," Fischer continued, pacing again. "It may not make that much difference, but in the next level down, my extractor here," he referenced the young man, "Jacob, will be attempting to extract your deepest, darkest secrets, which I'm sure will be a useful commodity to the law enforcement, your enemies, and your competitors in the business. I simply wish to make the job easier."

Fischer's nod was barely perceptible to Arthur but he braced himself for the next blow, and it came. This time he could feel his jaw crack and a stream of blood run in rivulets down the side of his face, a new cut formed on his face. He thought of Ariadne and wondered where she was. He wasn't worried of dying or being exposed or the physical torment of blood pulsing in and out of skin. These were all things that were present in his daily life, especially if he was on a job. But fear for Ariadne—this was a new, helpless feeling that he tried to avoid as much as possible. It was difficult, considering both of their jobs put them in danger 98% of the time, but he still tried to protect her, a fact she resented. They didn't talk about it, just like they didn't talk about her brief, comforting touches to the back of his head when he slumped over his computer, names and numbers floating around like cotton seeds. Or the bitter, black, just-the-way-she-liked-it coffee that found its way to her desk each morning. Or that first kiss, when they were dreaming in layers and levels, and the ghost of a smile she gave him after that made his pulse thrum. They didn't talk about it. And if anyone (Eames) asked, Arthur would only snap, much too quickly, that he was only trying to protect a fellow team member, the same for you, the same for Yusuf.

You might protect me in the field, darling, Eames quipped. But you sure bloody aren't bringing me coffee and kisses every morning.

Fischer was talking again. Cobb watched him through half-lidded eyes, infuriated that he had given all of this up ages ago, yet, here he was. He thought of his children, Phillipa and James. They were in reality where little time had passed. They would not be wondering where he was. He was glad.

Yusuf's head still hung down to his chest, but he was still breathing. The other men wondered if he had gone back to reality and what he had found there. He probably was worse off than they were, if that was the case. There were guards and brutish men in reality, where they were sleeping and dreaming and thrown onto lawn chairs like ragdolls. And a broken nose on the top was a real broken nose.

Saito's thoughts were contemplative and focused as he considered putting an actual hit on Fischer as soon as they were back in reality. There was more than one way to run a successful business.

And Eames? Eames was taking it all in. The blood, the sweat, the spit, the tape, the rope. The chairs. The guards. The room. Its potential escapes routes and layout. Any make-shift weapons. The men. Fischer. Jacob. He wondered what their weaknesses were, how he could manipulate, convince, distract. Anything to get them out of there.

Fischer kept talking, refusing to look any of them in the eye except Cobb. Jacob stroked a needle. The guards waited, blood dripping from their knuckles.

So here they were, five men brought together by the same man. Their thoughts on the room, the man, the children, and the girl.

None of them were prepared for the sound of her kitten heel shoes echoing off the marble floor.


	3. Chapter Two

Hey theeeeeeeeeeere everyone! I am SO sorry I haven't updated in a million years. I kind of lost track of this story and got busy and lost interest, but all of your amazing, positive reviews brought me back! I'll try to update quicker next time, I promise! Here is chapter 2, I hope it's too your liking. Again, not betaed so most likely riddled with grammar problems. Sorry!

D/A: The song 'Sex and Candy' belongs to Marcy Playground, Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan

Chapter Two:

The sound was barely perceptible at first. A steady click-clack of hard rubber against cold floor, the sound bouncing off the walls in multiple echoes. It sounded like water droplets, or a ball bouncing, or maybe even their blood dripping on the floor.

Arthur never thought it could be her. He didn't even take it into consideration, he simply assumed that the woman that was coming up behind them, the woman wearing heels that made his head ache; well, she was with Fischer, just another guard or another tool to torture them. His vision was hazy so it took him a moment to make out her form when she stepped into his line of sight. With her back to him, she was wearing those damn shoes, wedges with a kitten heel and a bit of toe poking through the front. There was a simple black dress that hugged her curves and a long-sleeved button-up shirt. The shirt's sleeves were rolled up, it had light blue vertical lines, and it was most certainly his. Her hair was knotted in a bun, chestnut strands smooth and glossy. She turned slightly so he could see her face. She did not make eye contact with any of them. He nearly cried out.

Arthur assumed she was a projection. It would make sense, after all. Cobb always bringing Mal into his dreams, ruining the mission, letting her in when he felt weak and vulnerable. Arthur had lost a lot of blood, he was desperate and teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, so it made sense for him to bring in the most comforting thing he knew. He was scared. He was scared for Ariadne, the real one, in reality. By bringing in this projection, Arthur had endangered her. Fischer would discover her true identity and he would track her down—and it didn't matter that the woman standing in front of him was not real, only a projection of Arthur's desperate mind. Fischer would recognize her, surely, and would bring her here with the others, with them.

"Hello…there. Can I…help you?" Fischer began, his eyebrow raised. Jacob placed his arm protectively around the silver suitcase and the guards began to move in towards Ariadne. She glanced quickly at one who was reaching for his gun and tensed, but did not move away. Fischer cleared his throat, raised a finger, and the guards stopped, retreating a bit. "Now, there's no need for that boys. We'll just see what this young lady wants—I certainly haven't seen her before."

"Hello," Ariadne replied, in almost a whisper, low and deep. "My name is…Lillian…and I was sent here. To help you." At the sound of her voice, the other men recognized her and looked up. The moment of recognition was brief, as Cobb and Eames knew that any signs of familiarity with Adriadne would get her killed. They were all scared for her, except for Arthur who still believed she was a projection.

"And what would I need help with?" Fischer asked, slowly taking a few steps in her direction, taking in the line where the blue shirt met the black dress. Ariadne grew more confident, shifted her weight a little and started moving past the row of chairs. She looked around, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh, I don't know. A clean-up crew?" She glanced back at the men in the chairs, blood surrounding them like an island. Her voice cracked a little at the joke but Fischer didn't notice. He gave a hearty laugh and sauntered toward her so there were only a few feet between them.

"Lillian, was it?" Ariadne nodded. "Ah, Lillian…this building is no place for a lady, as I'm sure you can see, so I really must ask you again—why are you here?" There was a smile on his lips but his eyes were cold, yet curious. She was not in his plan, but she could be incorporated if needed. Ariadne dragged her eyes away from the wall, took a small breath and looked him in the eye. She shivered.

It was a shiver that Arthur had seen many times before. It started from her shoulders and went up to the base of her neck, a barely perceptible twitch. It didn't take much to set it off—a slight breeze or a loud noise, usually Eames and Yusuf banging open the door after a night of gallivanting around. When she was tired and had been staring at her models and blueprints and she kept erasing the same line over and over again. When the dream became a little too real and waking up wasn't enough of a gauge for reality. Ariadne would shiver and maybe pull at her scarf and Arthur might say something or he might not. If he was at his desk he would just look at her and frown a little. If he was looking at the blue prints with her, he might put a hand on the small of her back that she would lean into or offer to get her a cup of coffee. In those moments, the one thing he really wanted to do was draw her into a comforting, enveloping hug and let the heat of his arms and chest smooth out all of the little shivers in her life. But he never did.

Seeing that shiver, watching Ariadne shift and bite her lip and hesitate, Arthur knew she was real. She wasn't a projection. She had come to save him, and Cobb and the others, she was being a hero, a real team member. And Arthur felt sick, because with Ariadne here and him tied to the chair, no one could save _her_.

"I'm here…" Ariadne started, looking around the room again, attempting a coquettish smile. "I'm here, because you've been working far too hard, Robert." She smiled wider, closing the distance between them and softly fingering his tie. "You need a break. You're working yourself to death, and for goodness sakes," she paused, enunciating her words as if she was reciting them. "_A dead horse can't run a race_."

At the last phrase, Robert's eyes lit up in recognition and he gave a short huff of a laugh, his body relaxing. "Uncle Peter. I should have known… he sent you?" Ariadne nodded, breathing out a laugh, sidling closer to Fischer. "Ah, that dog…he would. You certainly are a nice distraction from…work." Fischer leaned in close to Ariadne, inhaling the soft curve of her shoulder. His fingers ghosted over her jawbone and Arthur strained against his ropes. Ariadne, however, was all business; coy and subtle. She walked away from Fischer down the line of chairs, her heels purposefully hitting the ground. None of the men were watching her except Arthur, and of this she was intensely aware.

"Your Uncle sent me to spice things up a little, you know? Jobs like this can get awfully boring. And maybe— " She jerked her head toward the men in the chairs, "I can give them a show too? Before you do…whatever you're going to do with them…" She trailed off, a forced smile on her face but fear shaded in her eyes.

Fischer paused a moment to completely take her in, all slim hips and blushing cheeks. Eames wheezed and lurched forward in his chair. Cobb kept his peripheral vision on Ariadne but glanced over to Yusuf, who was no longer breathing. Ariadne's version of distracting Fischer would only go over for so long, and they needed a plan. He tried to get his point man's attention, maybe they would be able to figure something out with their hands tied. But Arthur had removed himself from the situation. He could no longer feel the ropes tying his wrists, or his lip leaking blood, or his totem pressing against his thigh. It was her, it was all her. Everything she was doing, saying. The risks she was taking, the thing she was about to do to get them out, to get him out.

Jacob the extractor twitched slightly, fidgeting. He didn't like this. He had been far too excited to do this job, and now there was a road block. He didn't like this woman, he didn't trust her. He wanted to start the job, he wanted to slide the needle into the other extractor's veins and steal all of his secrets; secrets of the job, secrets from his life. Jacob had an ulterior motive, of course. He was well on his way to being the best extractor in the business, but needed to eliminate his competition first. He had no qualms accepting this job when Fischer came to him—the thought of bringing down the mighty Cobb excited and intoxicated him.

But this woman, this…girl…she did not belong in this situation. He had seen the shiver, even if Fischer hadn't and he knew not to trust her. He was about to clear his throat and hint this to Fischer, when the man turned and looked at him, a lazy question in his eyes.

"Do we have time? That is…I wouldn't want my guests to have their lives destroyed without a little fun first," Fischer asked Jacob. "After all, after what we dredge up on them, no woman will ever touch them again…" Fischer smirked. Jacob had a difficult time not rolling his eyes, but he maintained his composure and slowly lowered the suitcase. The sooner Fischer played out this ridiculous fantasy, the better.

"Good," Fischer stated simply and advanced on Ariadne, leering. If the tips of her hand hadn't extended to stop him as she took a startled step backward, Arthur would have broken his wrist trying to get to her.

"Wait," she said. "Wait…I…well, this is awfully embarrassing, but…" she looked around, the mask back on. "It would be nice if we could get some privacy…" Fischer looked around to the guards who stood like giants, clearly an overwhelming presence for this mysterious woman. He understood immediately, and shooed them away with a flick of his finger. One brought him an old, rickety wooden chair before he left, and placed it directly in front of the five broken men. Fischer adjusted it a bit, smirking at the men who would not meet his eyes, and motioned to Ariadne stand in the front of the room. "Let's see what Peter had in mind…" He said softly, lowering himself onto the chair, his legs parted.

Fischer looked down for a second, distracted by a bit of Cobb's blood that had gotten on his pant leg so he did not see the look of terror on Ariadne's face. She smoothed back her hair and straightened her shirt, pausing briefly on the top button, rubbing it nervously. The room was silent.

"Let's have some music, yes?" Fischer said suddenly, his head snapping back up. He clapped his hand once, and perhaps because they were in a dream or perhaps because his guards and men were well oiled machines, a slow, sultry song began. All of the men were looking at Ariadne now, but none of their expressions were readable and she did not take comfort in their eyes. Not even Arthur's. A low voice started singing and it reminded her of dirty, sweaty nights at a seedy bar in Paris, where everyone's eyes were filled with booze and lust.

_Hangin' round downtown by myself_

_And I had so much time_

Ariadne began to swing her hips slightly to the music, feeling ridiculous. She tried to smile, she tried to focus on the collar of Fischer's shirt.

_To sit and think about myself_

_And then there she was_

Saito lowered his eyes. She was a lady, after all. Eames didn't.

_Like double cherry pie_

_Yeah there she was_

_Like disco superfly_

Cobb felt his heart break and saw Phillipa in Ariadne's eyes. Arthur was all black and rage and desperation—he had stopped trying to break free but he was still straining. The music paused, Fischer smiled and stretched in anticipation, and Ariadne undid the top button of her shirt.

_I smell sex and candy here_

_Who's that lounging in my chair_

_Who's that casting devious stares_

_In my direction_

"Well this is going to be interesting," Fischer quipped, and Arthur shuddered.

_Mama this surely is a dream_


End file.
